


Overflow

by VictoriannWings



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bruises, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Fluff without Plot, Hero Worship, Hickeys, Hurt/Comfort, I Love You, Love, M/M, Making Love, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sweet, Worship, except it's all comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 00:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11635224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriannWings/pseuds/VictoriannWings
Summary: Lance needed Shiro to understand the love overflowing, pouring out of his soul, like ocean waves, dousing him again and again in cool, refreshing, baptismal waters. He wanted Shiro, in more ways than one. And that want roared up through him.





	Overflow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HedonistInk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedonistInk/gifts).



He didn't even remember why they were laughing, arms helplessly around each other, clinging as they stumbled into the bedroom. Lance had said something funny, or made a silly face, maybe, but Shiro’s laugh warmed him from the inside out and he loved the way their laughing sounded together, intertwined like their fingers, like their gazes. Lance was lost in Shiro, his warm body, his strong arms tugging him forward. 

 The bed received them like an old friend, cool and soft. Lance’s shoulders touched Shiro’s. Fuck, Shiro’s eyes sparkled when he laughed like that, and the fluttering in his chest made Lance want him to never stop. Shiro rolled his arm beneath Lance’s head and pulled him in close to his body. Lance knew he was going to  _ melt _ , to meld into Shiro’s body like he was made to be there. 

 Resting his head on Shiro’s shoulder, Lance peeked up at him with stars in his eyes. “You're so beautiful when you laugh,” he murmured, and the vibrational chuckle in Shiro’s chest was music to Lance’s ears.

 “Only because you're the one making me laugh,” he responded, and brushed his thumb over Lance’s shoulder. 

 Everything else fell away. Saving the universe. Fighting wars. Watching harmless people be killed or injured. Nothing else mattered but his hero, warm and alive and gorgeous, shining beside him, around him. Lance couldn't be luckier. Couldn't bare the rising, tingling warmth in his chest. He couldn't believe he'd found Shiro again. That incredible relief and aching joy filled up his chest, twisting up inside him, and he wanted to cry, but instead, his hands found the buttons in Shiro’s vest and undid them. Thick emotion in his throat making him swallow. Fingers warm on a slowly rising chest, every muscle earned and worked for. 

 Shiro’s soft smile could  _ kill _ Lance. His heartbeat couldn't keep up with his racing thoughts, and he touched Shiro with a gentle tenderness, until the man shifted and cupped the side of Lance’s face. Shiro raised his chin and their lips collided in a cloud of sparks. 

 Mouths learning how to breathe stars into each other's lungs. Jaws encouraging hope and peace and in this moment, in this world, Lance knew he'd give everything inside him to love Shiro until the day he died. His hands traveled over Shiro’s chest and in seconds, Lance had shifted, too, hips over hips and lips still exploring each other, tongues dancing feverishly. He cried out, a whimper that escaped him before he realised he'd made any noise, and Shiro’s hand was in his hair in no time. Lance’s hands stripped the vest off, laid Shiro’s skin soft and bare beneath him. 

 Wonder washed over him. This man had been chiseled from the most perfect marble in the universe. Every part of Shiro was flawless, and Lance needed him to know that. 

 He began with his forehead, pressed soft kisses with murmured compliments. He wanted every word he gave to Shiro to be a gift. He wanted this person to know how purely  _ perfect  _ he was, wanted Shiro to laugh and smile and be strong, but for  _ himself _ .  Lance’s fingers curled around his sides, fingertips glided over Shiro’s skin. It felt like sin and forgiveness all at once and Lance shivered. 

 Then he dragged his lips down, to Shiro’s mouth, jaw, chin, neck.  _ Mmm _ , he moved his head to make room for Lance’s mouth and muscle and tendon rippled beneath his kisses. 

 With a growl, Lance sank his teeth into Shiro’s neck, tasted the salt on his skin. His hands found a home in Shiro’s hips, then, nails lightly grazing, thumbs massaging. Lance needed Shiro to understand the love overflowing, pouring out of his soul, like ocean waves, dousing him again and again in cool, refreshing, baptismal waters. He wanted Shiro, in more ways than one. And that  _ want _ roared up through him. He sucked until Shiro’s skin bloomed purple and Lance’s heart turned over knowing that Shiro belonged to him. That he alone had this scarlet effect on the man’s bruised skin. Lance could mark him, own him, express to the world in a highly intimate way that Shiro was  _ his _ . 

 Shiro. Lance had worshipped him the moment he saw him at the Garrison. And now he had this  _ god _ beneath his tongue. 

 He undid Shiro’s pants with confident fingers, eyes locked. If actions spoke louder than words, then Lance wanted to act. He’d been using words all his life and nothing had gotten him farther than this. This, where his hands seemed to know where to touch Shiro before he could consciously think about it. And Shiro’s response made Lance hard and aching, still clothed, as the man grabbed at his waist with his hand, found his way under Lance’s shirt. Something about the way Shiro touched him made Lance feel like his skin  _ belonged _ on Shiro’s. 

 He needed to be even closer to that. Lance needed his skin on Shiro’s, inside Shiro’s, helplessly entangled. His heart beat in his wrists.

 Shiro slid his pants off and then Lance was kissing there, too, mouth hot and wet on Shiro’s cock and if he was kissing a god before then this must be what dying felt like, being born again in the musky taste of his lover on his tongue. Shiro’s eyes rolled back in his head, his neck bare to the sky, fist curled in the sheets. Lance knew the archway of Shiro’s back shimmered in his mind, the rainbow archway to Valhalla, golden and illuminating and lighting up every fibre of Lance’s being. He  _ loved _ Shiro, more than he could say, and the desire to make him reach this pinnacle of spiritual enlightenment coursed through him. 

 But before Shiro was close, Lance pulled away, kissed on either side, moved his lips against Shiro’s hips. He grazed his teeth on hip bones surrounded by just the right amount of muscle and fat, enough that he couldn’t quite get a mouthful, but enough to leave marks there, too. These marks held secrets, the affection shimmering in Lance’s eyes, the tan fingers slipping across the expanse of pale whiteness. He loved the slice and taste of skin between his teeth. He loved the way Shiro’s face relaxed, in the purest form of relaxation and ecstasy, and Lance needed to worship every tiny particle of him, every line and smooth expanse of skin. If he was going to paint his love with his actions then he needed to decorate Shiro, to bruise him like Starry Night, dot after dot of black and blue and teeth on the canvas that was Shiro’s skin. 

 Nothing tasted better than this man, his incredible  _ hero _ , who had been through hell and back just to give Lance this heaven. He slid his hands over Shiro’s stomach, up, as far as he could reach, to his chest and nipples, then back down, as Shiro moved beneath him, and Lance brought his hands to Shiro’s hips and thighs, his mouth back home, lips wrapped around his lover. He wanted to make Shiro this happy all the time. He wanted Shiro to know that every time Lance touched him it was a prayer, a promise, a whisper that no matter their pasts, no matter their present, Lance’s future was Shiro, and that would never change.


End file.
